


Cats in the Cradle

by sephirothflame



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sephirothflame/pseuds/sephirothflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn’t find out he’s a father until the 21st century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cats in the Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place pre-Winter Soldier, but not by much. Mostly just testing the waters to see where I want to go with this particular 'verse. Also, the first thing I've written in what seems like a year. Un-beta'd.

Steve doesn’t find out he’s a father until the 21st century.

It’s not the kind of thing you just Google out of the blue, not really. After all, Steve has avoided searching for his own name since they gave him the go ahead to use the internet and a free iPad for playing along. He’s used to people filling in the blanks for him when it comes to the things he’s missed. So he doesn’t know, couldn’t possibly know, and when the news comes out it’s worse than being stuck in ice.

“You never told me,” Steve says. He wants to be accusatory, to be angry, but seeing Peggy frail and tired drains it right out of him. In that moment, he feels just the way she looks. His shoulders slump and he has to resist resting his forehead on Peggy’s bed.

“You never asked,” Peggy says, and it’s not a fair answer at all. She squeezes Steve’s hand in her own, before reaching for a battered photo album in her bedside table. “It breaks my heart to think about. Even more than losing you and James.”

Steve can’t look at the album when it’s pressed into his hands. He can’t see past the jealousy and betrayal he has no right feeling. He tries to smile apologetically when Peggy whispers his name, and Steve has no choice but to look down. His daughter’s birth certificate is on the same page as her obituary. Steve’s heart breaks and his eyes blur before he has a chance to even focus on what he’s reading.

“Virginia Carter,” Steve murmurs, his trembling fingers tracing the faded ink. At the bottom, Margaret Carter is printed in a jerky typeface, but there are no names following it. The space for the baby’s father is intentionally left blank, and Steve looks up.

Peggy smiles sadly, like she already knows what Steve is going to ask. “I didn’t want her to grow into a legacy,” Peggy explains. “To be Captain America’s only child, after his death. That’s too much to put on someone so young and sweet.”

As she says it, of course it makes sense. He doesn’t blame Peggy for that, not in a million years. He wouldn’t want to do that to his only child. For them to grow up under that much pressure is stifling and cruel. “Did she know?”

“Of course,” Peggy says. She squeezes Steve’s hand tightly and smiles sadly. “I think a part of her always knew, but she was smart enough to figure it out long before I told her. Even when I couldn’t bare to have photos of you or James around. But I couldn’t let her join the Women’s Army Corp without telling her.”

Steve nods, unsure of what to say. He turns the page of the album and he feels his heart break all over again. Virginia is beautiful, even in a seventy year old photograph. She’s got big brown eyes, thick dark curls, and freckles. He can’t tell if she’s biologically his or Bucky’s, not when she looks just like Peggy, but it doesn’t matter. She’s beautiful.

There aren’t many photos, which doesn’t surprise Steve all that much, but the few Peggy has are precious. He’s not watching his daughter grow up in the flipping of a few pages, nothing even close, and it only makes him wish he had been there even more. But seeing Virginia on a bike, a pony, in a graduation gown and her WAC uniform, it makes the pain a little more bearable.

“You let her join the Army,” Steve says, his fingertips carefully trying to smooth down the curling edges of a photograph.

“I never had a choice,” Peggy says. Her smile is sad, and she rests back on her pillow with her eyes closed. “She was her own woman and she was determined to do it. After James’ death, and yours, it was the last thing I wanted. We fought, we cried, but I let her go. She was always her fathers’ daughter.”

“Bucky would have been proud,” Steve says, voice catching in his throat. “I know I am.”

Peggy’s smile doesn’t falter, even though she heaves a heavy sigh. Her body shudders through it, and she pats Steve’s hand gently. “I never meant for you to find out like this,” she says softly. “I always meant to tell you. There just wasn’t a way to do it without adding to your pain.”

Steve makes a thoughtful noise, and closes the photo album gently. “Maybe if you told me when you found out?”

“We had just lost James and we were so close to crushing Hydra,” Peggy replies. Her smile has faded, but she opens her eyes to meet Steve’s gaze. “The war was almost over. I was going to tell you as soon as we had won, if it hadn’t become obvious before that. It could have gone either way.”

He makes a contemplative noise, but Steve doesn’t know what else he could possibly say. His daughter was barely twenty years old when she died alone in a foreign country. She hadn’t had mates or children, didn’t have any family except for her tired, heartbroken mother. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t you start that again, Steven Grant Rogers,” Peggy says. Her tone is serious, but Steve knows her well enough to know that she’s joking. She smiles again, softly, barely the corners of her lips turning up, but it’s enough for Steve. “I’ll have the nurse make copies for you. I’m not ready to let them go just yet.”

Steve brings her hand to his lips, and kisses the delicate skin between her knuckle bones. “Thank you, Peggy. I’d like that a lot.” He moves to put the album on the dresser, somewhere safe, but Peggy gestures for him to give it to her instead. He obeys without question. “Tell me about our daughter?”

“Not tonight,” Peggy says, sighing. “I’m tired and we’re both hurting so much.” She rests the photo album over her chest, both arms folding over it to keep it safe and secure. “Next time,” she says softly. “Ask me again next time. For now, I think I need to sleep.”

“Okay, Peggy,” Steve says. He stands up carefully, as not to scrape the chair against the linoleum floor and disturb her. He brushes the wisps of her bangs out of her face and kisses her forehead gently. “I’ll come back soon.”

“That’s what you always say,” Peggy says with a faint smile on her tired face, but this time, they both know that he means it.


End file.
